


Apollo

by WonderAvian



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23002606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderAvian/pseuds/WonderAvian
Summary: John receives a rather unexpected Christmas present.Originally posted on the TAG Secret Santa tumblr for @marsmackie 2017.
Kudos: 18





	Apollo

Christmas Morning. Everyone – and yes, that includes John – was gathered around the Christmas Tree to unwrap Christmas presents.

This year, John was the last to open his stash of gifts. He sat cross-legged on the floor, and gave the thumbs up to say, ‘I’m ready.’

The first one, from Alan, who demanded that John open his first, was a pack of space-themed playing cards, with pictures Alan himself took from post-rescue missions and pictures sent from John’s old NASA buddies. As John flipped through them he realized he recognized some of the missions. A rush of fond sentiment filled him when he reached the last one, a selfie that Alan had asked to take with him on Thunderbird 5 the day Alan was allowed to take monitor duty with John.

John reached over to ruffle Alan’s hair.

“Thank you, Alan. I love it.”

Alan blushed.

“Aw, it was nothing,” he said as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. He quietly busied himself in playing with the new code game John had got him.

Next, from Scott, who handed over a well-wrapped present. Trust Scott to wrap his gifts up so tight it took almost a minute and a razor to get the gift wrap off.

In the end, Scott had given John a set of guns – Han Solo’s blaster pistol and Spock’s phaser.

Grinning mulishly, John aimed the phaser at Scott and fired. Scott jerked up, pretending to be shot, and fell sideways off his chair.

“Nice, Scott. Thank you,” John smirked playfully.

“You’re welcome,” Scott said from the floor.

Virgil calmly handed his present over, which was nicely wrapped up in design paper that he likely made himself. Inside was a star wheel notebook for John to map out constellations and take notes while stargazing.

John gave Virgil an appreciative smile; the gift was not only aesthetically pleasing and thoughtful, but useful. John may love Thunderbird 5’s data recording functions, but he had a thing for star-mapping by hand.

Virgil winked at him and sat back in his chair.

Kayo gave him a set of novels John had been interested in reading.

Brains gave him a pair of gloves with special magnets set in the fingertips he made himself.

Grandma plonked a handknitted beanie the colour of Thunderbird 5 on his head when he wasn’t not looking.

MAX glided in with two packages in his hands, one from the Creighton Ward Estate and one from the International Space Station.

Lady Penelope had sent John yet more books, probably after catching him reading in his little alcove in Thunderbird 5.

Captain Ridley O’Bannon had sent John a miniature version of the ISS with a card that said, ‘I still haven’t forgotten how you saved us. Hopefully that will be the last time we meet under such dire circumstances. Thank you and Merry Christmas – From Ridley and the ISS crew’.

John grinned at the message, shaking his head fondly and slightly exasperatedly at the memories it brought up.

John gently put Ridley’s gift down in his large pile of presents and turned to the last person to present him with a gift with trepidation.

Gordon had been suspiciously quiet during the gift giving, which was very uncharacteristic of him. The family joker was looking at John with something akin to anxiety mixed with poorly disguised impatience on his face. His hands, tightly clasped together, only added to his nervous stature.

John dared to raise an eyebrow.

Gordon hastened to hand over his gift.

John carefully took the lumpy parcel from Gordon. It was light in his hands. Unwrapping it slowly, the hastily wrapped present revealed – a tee shirt.

John frowned.

“Uh, Gordon? What is this?” John lifted the shirt up with a questioning look.

“Look at the design.”

John did so and blanched.

‘MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMAL’

“You… you got me…” John said faintly.

“John? What does it say?” Virgil asked, concerned.

John silently turned the shirt around to show his family.

No-one said anything. Alan and Brains looked a little shocked. Kayo, Virgil and Grandma shook their heads. A muscle on Scott’s forehead twitched.

Gordon started to laugh.

John continued to sit there, staring in horror at the hideous, brightly coloured shirt.

Gordon laughed until his face was red and there were tears in his eyes.

“I don’t understand,” John said bluntly.

Gordon fell off his chair.

“Are you going to put it on, John?” Grandma finally asked.

A moment passed where John seemed to argue silently with himself. Then he seemed to shrug, and proceeded to slowly put the shirt on, all the while looking slightly mortified.

“Well?” Kayo asked, smirking.

“It actually fits,” John commented, tugging at it with a curious expression.

Gordon looked endlessly relieved.

Scott, meanwhile, looked like he was about to have a conniption. Whether one of rage or hysterics, it couldn’t be said.

“Well,” Grandma said, standing up with a flourish. “Why don’t we all pack up this mess and have some of my Christmas cooking? I made cookies!”

The rest of the Tracy Island inhabitants looked at each other, smiled painfully, and each bid a hasty retreat.

* * *

After more games and lunch, which John had been forced to wear the shirt under Grandma’s watchful eye, John made up and excuse to go to his room – something about fixing his telescope after Alan got his grubby teenager fingerprints on it (“Hey!”) and locked the door and stay there, hiding away from curious stares and Gordon’s irritating cackling.

Once he was in the safety of his room, John took the shirt and just looked at it. It was definitely of good quality and it fit him nicely, the material even felt nice and silky. It was the slogan that put him off.

‘MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMAL’

John stared at it hopelessly.

This slogan wasn’t something he’d say. The shirt wasn’t something he’d usually wear. It was more suited for Gordon himself and maybe Scott would wear it. But John? No. John wearing something as vulgar and as off-putting as this was unheard of.

John was uniform. John was polite. John was so much a stick-to-the-rules kind of guy Gordon sometimes said he had a stick up his ass.

Whether it was a late gift of not, it was certainly done on purpose. And it certainly wasn’t like it was up to the calibre of gifts they usually gave each other, especially the gift John had gotten Gordon this year (a better, upgraded diving suit John had worked on when he was off-shift for six months).

Screw Christmas.

John was more than a little annoyed.

Taking off the shirt and laying it on his barely used dresser, John left the privacy of his room and sneaked over to Alan’s, where he was probably still playing with the code game.

Knocking on the door, John heard Alan gasp quietly before a quick clicking noise was heard. The door opened only slightly, so John could only see one bright blue eye peering out at him in alarm.

“John? What do you want?”

John blinked.

“What are you doing? What was all that about,” John inquired, naturally concerned.

The door opened more so that John could see Alan’s entire face. John shot a look at the computer, but the screen was off. However, Alan’s headphones were lying on the desk.

“I was talking to my friends,” Alan said.

“But you don’t have any friends,” John blurted out before he could stop himself.

Alan’s excited expression instantly shut down.

“Thanks, John,” he said flatly. “What do you want?”

John floundered, flustered.

“I’m sorry, that was stupid of me,” John said in a rush, wincing when Alan muttered angrily, _“Damn right it was.”_

“I need your help.”

Alan raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?”

“I need to get back at Gordon, and you’re the only one who won’t tell,” John looked at Alan imploringly.

Alan nodded, lips pursed.

“Well, you’re right there. Except for Kayo maybe. And I AM the best person on this island for ‘getting back’ at people, second again only to Kayo,” Alan said in agreement.

John foolishly allowed himself to feel hope.

“So will you help me?”

Alan pretended to think about it.

“No,” he said, and shut the door in John’s face.

* * *

John went to Kayo next.

She took one look at his sad expression, then pushed him in the direction of Gordon’s room.

“Alan told me what happened. Just go talk to Gordon,” she said with a hint of annoyance in her tone.

* * *

Scott listened quietly as John explained the situation, face blank save for the occasional downward twitching of the corners of his mouth.

Eventually, Scott just sighed and said, “Look, as much as I hate to admit it, I shouldn’t really be helping you with this. For all we know, Gordon was trying to be genuine with what he got you. You know how he is. Either way, you got yourself into this mess and I have complete confidence that you’ll be able to get yourself out.”

* * *

Brains was locked away in his lab. John wouldn’t be expecting any help from him.

* * *

John went into the kitchen to get a drink.

Grandma saw him and offered him some eggnog.

John quietly excused himself, saying he had duties to get back to soon, and he couldn’t afford to indulge in such luxuries now.

Grandma smiled sadly at him.

John wished he hadn’t been the cause of such an expression.

And then Grandma asked why he wasn’t wearing Gordon’s shirt, and John remembered his mission.

He barely needed to say anything when Grandma huffed at him, and told him to go see Virgil.

* * *

Virgil listened intently to what John had to say. He didn’t interrupt at any point, just let John get it all out. Again. But somehow talking to Virgil made a weight lift from John’s chest.

“I just wish I could understand why he gave me the shirt, Virgil. I mean, as a prank or some kind of joke, but now? At Christmas time? Doesn’t it seem a little rich? Can’t Gordon ever be serious for once? I don’t understand him Virgil, I really don’t.”

Virgil nodded.

“Do you think that is what it really is? A joke?” he asked calmly. “Because I don’t think he meant it maliciously.”

John made a noncommittal noise.

“If it’s a joke, then it’s a bad one. You don’t think this is to get back at me for making him do monitor duty with Alan and EOS when I was at that party with Lady Penelope? I did tell him I didn’t expect EOS to act so childishly. And I did tell him afterwards he did a good job regardless.”

Virgil nodded, then shook his head.

“I get that, but I think you’re missing the point. If that had anything to do with the shirt, then I doubt it would be for that. You know Gordon likes Penelope.”

John blinked.

“Yeah, I do.”

Virgil nodded, continued, “But I don’t think he gave you the shirt because he’s mad with you. Even if he was, he’s not as cruel to do something like that on purpose…”

“Or without an ulterior motive,” John finished for him, his eyes widening in realization.

Virgil raised an eyebrow, questioning. John grinned.

“Thank you Virgil, you’ve been a great help,” John said as ran out the door to his bedroom.

“You’re welcome?” Virgil said to the closing door.

Shaking his head in fond exasperation, Virgil shut the swaying door gently and turned back to his sketchbook.

“Little brothers,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he reached for a pen.

_Dear Brains…_

* * *

John quietly knocked on Alan’s door and waited tentatively for an answer. When none came, he called out softly, “Alan? It’s me. I’m sorry. I want to talk to you.”

Seconds passed.

John held his breath. After a minute had passed elapsed he made to turn away.

The creaking of the door opening made him turn back, not daring to allow himself to feel hopeful this time.

Alan’s hurt eyes gazed up at him.

“What do you want,” he said flatly.

“I’m sorry, Alan. What I said was very rude and I wanted to apologize. May I come in?”

Blue eyes stared into light green ones.

“Okay,” he said, and stepped aside to let John in.

Once inside, John nervously rubbed his hands together.

“Look. I’m sorry about what I said. It wasn’t nice and was just plain rude. I’d do anything to take it back.”

Alan scrutinized John, then shrugged and nodded.

“Its okay. I get where you’re coming from,” Alan sighed as he sank into his desk chair. “Its not like I get off the island much anyway.”

John winced at that and sat down on Alan’s bed, facing his brother.

“You know you could just ask.”

Alan made a face.

“I have. Its just never been a good enough time or reason or I get called away or…”

Alan rubbed his face. John silently observed that his baby brother looked more tired than usual. Worn. Resigned.

“Anyway. You said something about getting back at Gordon?”

John let a breath, hung his head.

“I’ve been throwing a hissy fit.”

“Yeah, you kind of have.”

John looked up at Alan.

“I mean, can’t say I blame you, but you haven’t exactly been very mature about this.”

John laughed.

“Someone needs to tell Gordon that.”

Alan smiled.

“So, what do you have in mind?”

In answer, John stood up and walked to the door. He turned to look at Alan.

“I’m going to go see him now. Are you coming?”

“One second.”

Alan turned in his chair and typed in a message explaining what was happening as fast as he could. Then he logged out of discord, shut off his computer and grinned, racing to follow John out.

John had to ask.

“So… were those your friends?”

Alan rolled his eyes.

“Yes, John, my friends. You remember Brandon and Conrad right?”

Conrad, John could remember. But Brandon? As in Brandon Berrenger, the kid who drove Scott up the wall?

“Huh,” John said, and led the way out.

* * *

John trudged up to Gordon’s room with an air of resigned acceptance. By now he had truly calmed down and was willing to talk it out with his joker of a brother.

Beside him, Alan was tapping his foot on the ground with nervous energy.

John rapped his knuckles on the door, and a voice from inside said, _“Come in.”_

“Hey Gordon.”

Gordon swung around in his chair, dropping his guitar onto a bean bag.

“Johnny! What a surprise! So, did you like my present in the end?”

John took a deep breath.

“It was… interesting. I can safely say I wasn’t expecting it.”

Gordon clapped his hands together.

“Well that’s good! I trust you’ll put it in your supply bag for when you return to space?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” John muttered. “Look, Gordon, why give me that shirt anyway?”

“Because it’s funny.”

John took a deep breath.

“Right. So, its not because you were hiding something else?”

Gordon looked caught. Alan stepped out from behind John and attempted to lock eyes with him.

“You can let the cat out of the bag now, Gordon.”

Gordon stood up, let out a melodramatic sigh, and rummaged under his bed for something.

Stepping over multiple bundles of clothes, books and models that littered the floor, Gordon deposited a carboard box in John’s hands.

John raised an eyebrow.

“Okay…?” he started to clumsily open the box, balancing it on his knee.

A sudden scuffling noise and a startled mewl came from inside.

John froze.

Gordon gave him a significant look.

“Open it carefully.”

John stared.

Alan’s eyes widened.

John set the box down on the ground. Tentatively, he opened the top of the box.

John clapped a hand to his mouth.

“John? Are you alright? Is it…?” Alan peeked around, trying to see.

John slowly and gently lifted the tiniest kitten either of the two astronauts had ever seen. The tiny fluffy creature had extremely fluffy orange fur and bright green and blue eyes that bore a striking resemblance to John’s own.

Gordon coughed, shuffling his feet, hands in his pockets.

“I would have given you to him earlier, but I wasn’t sure he would be able to handle such a crowd so early. He’s very shy. And you needn’t worry, I had him tested and everything, and he won’t bite you,” Gordon let out in a rush.

Alan looked closely at his fellow astronaut.

“John, are you… crying?”

John lifted the kitten up to eye level and stared into eyes the same colour as his own. John’s eyes may have been watery, but his face was blank.

Thoughts of the kitten being trodden on in the busy house, of John saying, _“It can’t stay here,”_ and _“It can’t live on Thunderbird 5,”_ disappeared when John whispered, “Nice to meet you… Apollo.”

Gordon and Alan shared a look and grinned.

Everything was going to be okay.


End file.
